


Do you trust yourself?

by JenJo



Series: 52 Short Stories in 52 Weeks [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Origin Story, Strike Team Delta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 12:20:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6153532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenJo/pseuds/JenJo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'The red curls on her head seemed to absorb the light around her, enveloping her in a web of darkness. She couldn’t be looked at directly, meaning that no one had a comprehensive description of her. This only made her all the more dangerous.'</p>
<p>What happens when spy for hire Natasha meets a Clint who has been sent to eliminate her?<br/>Or, Strike Team Delta origin story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do you trust yourself?

**Author's Note:**

> Week 9: Creepy.

The red curls on her head seemed to absorb the light around her, enveloping her in a web of darkness. She couldn’t be looked at directly, meaning that no one had a comprehensive description of her. This only made her all the more dangerous. 

When she wanted to be seen? Oh, there was nothing that you could do to stop looking at her. She could draw you in with her words, or with her looks. Both were equally dangerous. 

Her arena of choice was a mid sized bar, with enough patrons that no one would miss her mark, but not so many as to be crowded. Her uniform was a short black dress which left little to the imagination. The heels, red as her hair, allowed her to tower over the majority of men.

This evening would be like any other. Her mark was a man of thirty seven, a married CEO who had said no to the wrong man. It did not bother her  _ why  _ she was hired; the money in her account more than paid for her silence. 

“Is this seat taken?” she asked as she slipped into the vacant seat. The mark looked like he would argue, before he got a better look at her. He offered her a smile.

“Now why would a lovely lady like you be alone?” the man asked, running a (sweaty) hand up her thigh. He had already been here for a couple of hours; she had began observing as soon as he entered. His breath reeked of the (cheap) beer that he had chosen for the evening. The smell of his breath barely covered the smell of his body odour.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, instead giving the man a charming smile. “Oh, you know, I’m looking for a nice, strong man to have a bit of fun for a night. You wouldn’t know anyone like that, woud you?”

She smiled as the man nodded at her, and he stood up. “I know just what you need, sweety.”

She allowed him to take her hand, and was led to one of the rooms upstairs.

She did not notice that she was being followed.

Upon entering the room (standard, one king sized bed, and separate bathroom), she locked the door before she allowed her target to believe that he was in charge. She made herself pliant, and allowed him to believe that he was in charge. 

He was unclothed, hovering over her. He felt in control. She, still in her underwear, took the opportunity to reverse their roles, pinning his arms and legs beneath her with her thighs.

“Feisty one, are we?” He smiled up at her. His smile dropped when she produced a knife, and held it to his neck. “What?”

“Quiet,” she whispered, running a hand over his face, “It will all be over soon.”

“Who sent you?” he asked. She gave him a smile, taking joy in feeling him shivering in fear beneath her.

“Oh, I think you know,” she answered, watching his eyes widen in fear.

“I can double your pay,” his voice wavered. She ran the knife over his neck, drawing some blood.

“Your life on the line, and you can only offer double?” she tutted. “Surely you can do better than that.”

“Triple, quadruple, anything. Name your figure!” He yelled, having long given up on trying to escape her.

She was about to plunge the knife into the man, when the door opened behind her.

“Get off him.”

She turned around, not loosening her grip. A man stood there, unarmed. He wore black jeans, and a leather jacket. He was unremarkable, save for his sandy blonde hair. He looked too comfortable for a man who was unarmed.  _ And how did he unlock the door without me hearing it? _

“I’m comfortable where I am,” She gave the stranger a smile, before turning back to the man beneath her. As she lifted her hand, an arrow shot through it, forcing her to drop the knife. She grabbed her hand around the arrow, trying to stop the bleeding. The man behind her had no weapon in his hand.

“Get off him,” he repeated. She got off the mark, and stood next to the bed. The mark stood up, and crawled to the man’s feet.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” the mark cried. 

“Stand up,” the man said. The mark complied straight away. The man put a syringe to the mark’s neck, causing the mark to drop to the floor unconscious.

“It’s a sedative. He’ll wake up in a couple of hours,” the man said, shrugging before turning his attention to the woman. “You, on the other hand, are another matter entirely.”

“Are you HYDRA?” she asked, Russian accent thick. The man shook his head. “KGB? CIA?”

“SHIELD,” the man replied. The woman blinked, and stood up taller.

“SHIELD. I don’t believe you,” she stuck out her chin in defiance.

“Hold your hand up,” the man replied. At her questioning look, he demonstrated. “It’ll stop the bleeding. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I couldn’t let you kill this man.”

He sat down on the opposite side of the bed to where she was standing. She remained standing. After a minute, where he didn’t stop looking at her, she raised her hand. The bleeding stopped.

“Take a seat,” he gestured to the bed. She sat down, but sat tall so that he was looking up to her. She noticed the crossbow that sat at the door.  _ So that is what shot me. How antiquated. _

“Why does SHIELD want me?”

“The truth? SHIELD doesn’t want you,” he offered her a smile. “They sent me to kill you.”

“So why am I still alive, Agent Barton?” She gave the man a small smile. If he was surprised that she knew his name, he didn’t show it.

“So I’ve finally made a reputation for myself?”

“Or you are the only one in this game who uses old fashioned arrows. Must be because you’re so old.”

He kept his face impassive. “I’m not that much older than you.”

“You don’t know how old I am.”  _ No one knows how old I am. No one can ever know how old I am.  _  “Why am I still alive?”

“Cheese salad.”

“What?”

“You had cheese salad for breakfast.”

“You have been following me since this morning? And here I thought SHIELD trained it’s operatives better.”

He gave her a smile. “I was going to kill you this morning. But then I saw something in your face. You’re a kid, maybe made a few bad decisions in your life. But I think there’s an opportunity to change that. Come back with me, start a new life in America.”

She gave him a laugh. “And why would I believe you? You say SHIELD sent you to kill me. There will be repercussions for your failure.”

He held out a hand, motioning towards the arrow in her hand. She extended her arm, and he started to examine it.

“SHIELD isn’t what you think it is. I was like you, once. SHIELD offered me a chance at a better life. They can give you the same. You can trust me.”

He had removed the arrow while she had been concentrating on his face. She held up her hand, inspecting it.

“How can I trust you?” she asked, not taking her eyes off of her hand, which was not bleeding.  _ How strange. He managed to miss any arteries. He lives up to his reputation as a marksman then _ .

He shrugged. “You have two choices here. You come with me, have a chance at a new life. Or, you say no, and I carry out my original orders.”

She looked at him, and in an instance had him pinned beneath her on the bed, knife retrieved and at his neck.

“Or, a third option. I kill you, kill my mark, and leave the continent before SHIELD even find your body.”

“You don’t want to do that,” the man said beneath her. She sat up, taking the knife from his neck but keeping him pinned beneath her.

“Why not? It seems like my best option. WIn win, as you Americans say.”

“You don’t kill SHIELD agents, or people with ties to SHIELD. Your targets have all been corporate espionage. Hardly a life worthy of a graduate of the Red Room.”

She pressed the knife back to his neck. “How do you know this?”

“You know me, I know you Romanoff,” he responded, heart rate never increasing. She blinked down at him, before getting off of him and off of the bed. She stood with her back to him, knife held in her hand loosely. 

“No one knows me,” she whispered. She heard Barton sitting up on the bed, and smiled when he chose not to move closer to her.

“Maybe not. But I know, you are looking for an opportunity to get out of your current situation. And I am here, offering you a chance.”

“But why? I have killed so many, done so many horrible things. America would never accept me.”

“Would you not like to at least try? You have nothing to lose at this point.”

“Nothing to lose,” she repeated, before dropping her knife to the floor. She turned to face Barton.

“I suppose seducing you is out of the question?” She raised an eyebrow, before smiling at his impassive face. “You are a good actor, Agent Barton. You would have made a good partner in the field.”

“Still could, you never know what the future will hold,” he picked up the dress she had been wearing, and offered it to her. She took it, putting it on effortlessly.

“So, what now?”

“I take you back to SHIELD, simple,” he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a communication device.

“Hey Agent-” was all he got out, before whoever was on the other side began talking loud enough for her to hear.

[AGENT BARTON, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? RADIO COMMUNICATION MUST BE MAINTAINED AT ALL TIMES WHEN GOING AFTER THE WIDOW.]

“The Widow?” she asked. Barton cringed in reply.

[Barton, who was that?]

Barton rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “Ah yes, I’ve got a surprise for you Coulson.”

[A surprise? I hope that surprise is that you have eliminated the Widow and are ready for extraction as planned. If not, I cannot promise a safe return for you.]

“The Widow is in my custody, and willing to cooperate with SHIELD,” Barton offered her a smile as silence came from the radio. She gave him a small quirk of the lips in response.

[Define willing to cooperate.]

“I am willing to defect,” she answered. “And with that will come all knowledge I currently possess, free of charge. In exchange for safety as an American citizen, and employment with Agent Barton.”

[Voice recognition confirms you as the Widow.] Silence from the radio, presumably conversations happening away from the microphone. [No promises can be made, however SHIELD is willing to offer safe housing until such time as we can confirm your intentions. Barton, rendezvous as previously instructed. Your behaviour will be dealt with later.]

“That man does not like you,” she said, causing the man to laugh.

“Nah, Coulson loves me. What he doesn’t love is my ‘constant questioning of authority, and incessant need to push the boundaries’. His words, not mine,” he added. “Now, if you will follow me, a new life awaits you.”

“A new life,” she echoed, following the man. He picked up the crossbow, and folded it up so that it fit into his pocket.

“You know that I can kill you even unarmed,” she said (not for the first time that night) as they walked to the rendezvous, through the empty streets. “Why do you trust me?”

He offered her a smile. “I’ll say it as many times as you need me to. I’ve been where you are, and know that a clean start is all you need. I trust you, do you trust yourself?”

She thought about that question all the way to the SHIELD outpost they took her to.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> So, clearly not creepy. Started off going in that direction, but then didn't. Oh well.  
> See you next week, where there may or may not be a wedding.


End file.
